


Seize and Redistribute the Cuddles

by Centricide (Kyun)



Series: Horseshoe Theory [1]
Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, pure tooth-rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyun/pseuds/Centricide
Summary: In which one gremlin (Anarkiddy) catches the flu and Tankie takes care of him while daydreaming about Stalin, "greatest hero of all time."
Relationships: authcom/ancom
Series: Horseshoe Theory [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035195
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	Seize and Redistribute the Cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank everyone who commented on my first fanfiction. The general feedback was that I have a nice writing style (thank you), but my subject matter was a bit disturbing. So, I have written a short drabble about Anarkiddy catching a cold.

"Wow, 38 degrees. That's not even as bad as it feels!" said Anarkiddy, trying to wiggle out of Tankie's arms.

"Not as bad as it _veels_?" Tankie said, pushing him back down into the mountain of blankets. "Anarkiddy, you are shaking. If you veel bad, you must stay in bed."

"But, I haven't done anything in days! If I stay in bed now, I'll be even more behind."

"Anarkiddy," said Tankie, taking his jacket off and wrapping it around Anarkiddy's shoulders, "I am going to take good care of you, da? Revolution is only as strong as its people."

"Well, thank you for staying at least," he said, "and for making me soup... Ancap and Nazi won't come anywhere near me after I told them. They keep telling me that it's _coronavirus_."

"Da, but it is flu season and sharing is caring."

"Not sicknesses!"

"Herd immunit— Ow." Anarkiddy bopped him gently on the head with his baseball bat.

"Can we still sleep in the same bed? I took NyQuil instead of DayQuil and I'm going to pass out."

"Da, of course; you're cute when you need me."

Tankie was able to dodge the swing this time, laughing uncontrollably while Anarkiddy cursed at him. "Having a cold does not make me _needy_!"

"I'm kidding. Just let me feed you, da? Lie back down." Anarkiddy opened his mouth to say something rude but was hit by a wave of dry coughing that he tried vainly to hide in his sleeve.

"I hate this," he said, flopping around onto his stomach, his voice muffled by pillows. "My whole back hurts and I'm covered in sweat. This officially sucks! This blows."

"Poor Anarkiddy," said Tankie, coming to sit at his side and kneed circles into his back. A part of him would be lying if he said that he didn't like that, so when his eyes began watering he didn't stop it. He might as well play it up; not like he had anything else to do.

Suddenly, he felt the bed lift and shot up onto his knees. _He's leaving. He's leaving. He thinks that you're annoying. He thinks that you're annoying and weak and stupid and gross and a waste_ _of his time. He thinks that you're a stupid idiot who got sick because you're stupid._ "Wait! Please."

Tankie turned around with his soup tray in one hand, glasses in the other. "Oi, vhat's got you worked up?"

"I just... I... don't know. Fever?" he said lamely. "I don't want you to go."

"Da, I am not going anyvhere. Don't vorry," he said. Anarkiddy flopped back down on the bed, barely able to hold his head up anymore.

"Why do you have glasses?"

"Ah, Anarkiddy," Tankie said, "it is because in this AU I am short-sighted and need them to read you story about Stalin, greatest hero of all time. Also, I am greatest wrestler in all of Russia now."

"What is an... AU?"

"Never mind."

Tankie set his glasses down on the bedside table and the tray in his lap, putting his hand underneath Anarkiddy's head to steady him.

"Look, I can do it myself. I don't need you he—" Anarkiddy curled in on himself, descending into a fit as he coughed into the bed, left arm shaking, teardrops dripping off of his cheek.

"Anarkiddy," said Tankie when he had recovered and gone back to sniffing. "It is only me." Anarkiddy locked eyes with him, feeble and watery. "Just let me do this for you, da?"

Ancom could imagine another world, a world where he said, "No," but love and tiredness and affection and sickness broke him down, so that in the end he only mouthed, "Ok."

They sat like that for the next few minutes, Tankie and him: Tankie gently feeding him thick, creamy borscht. He barely opened his eyes, more closed than open anyway, but he could faintly recall thinking, _How nice, to have your own soup from own culture... your own people to go to._

"Anarkiddy?" said Tankie when he finally crawled into bed beside him, Anarkiddy curled up at his shoulder.

"What?" 

"Would you like this from now on? Not having any responsibilities, expectations... Just letting me look after you and tell you how to be."

Ancom looked up. "I'm not a statist, Commie."

"Ah, vell. It was vorth a try," he said, toying with the knots in Anarkiddy's hair. "Let me comb these out in the morning."

"Sure," he said. "Tankie?"

"Vhat?"

"Tell me the story about the February Revolution and how Lenin was going to take back Russia for the anarchists."

"Vell, actually, Lenin vas Bolshevik and—"

"Tell me the anarchist story anyway."

Tankie looked down at him, a warm, slight man in an oversized, green hoodie. "Ok," he said. "I vill."

**Author's Note:**

> I might update this or edit it later. If you have any feedback, let me know. I'm used to writing darkfic/kidnapping because I like the concept of not having any responsibilities or expectations (and being taken care of), but sickfic is pretty similar, I guess.
> 
> If you can project onto this and feel better about lack of productivity during COVID, I've done my job. Haha.


End file.
